Picture Perfect
by Chikin Wang
Summary: Harry, while cleaning out the attic, finds an old photo album from the days of the second war. He presents it to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny at Hermione's birthday party. Join the trio and Ginny as they journey down memory lane and visit the past.
1. Hermione's Birthday

Hey, guys, it's me again!!

I've been putting off this fic for ages now, but seeing as the end is oh, so near, I figured that I'd just stop planning and just jump into the middle of everything. I hope you all like this one!

**Disclaimer**: I have no idea if Snape's good or evil, so I guess that doesn't make me JKR.

* * *

_**Picture Perfect**_

**Chapter I**:  
_Hermione's Birthday_

* * *

  
"Harry!"

He looked up from the stack of reports sitting on his desk. There, in the doorframe, stood Ginny, lips pursed, arms crossed.

"Yes…?" he said uncertainly, putting down Daryl Landcaster's report on the capture of Jason Maller.

"Tomorrow's the nineteenth."

He blinked. "Er…that's nice."

"Oh, honestly, Harry," his wife rolled her eyes. "Tomorrow's _Hermione's_ birthday. Hermione? You know, one of your best friends, Hermione? My brother's wife, Hermione?"

Harry sighed. Ever since their eldest son, James, left for Hogwarts a fortnight ago, his wife had been on edge, constantly worry the boy. Even though he was the head of the Aurors, Harry dared not to inform her that she was behaving like an uptight Hermione.

Ginny's lips relaxed and her arms fell to her sides as she shot an apologetic glance his way. "Sorry, it just that…the kids are growing up so fast and the girls'll be starting in a few years and it's just so…"

"Really? Five isn't enough for you?" Harry questioned with a hearty chuckle.

"They grow up so quickly…" she said emphatically, her eyes gazing at him earnestly.

"Do you want to make another one?" he glanced at his watch. "I think I may have thirty minutes to spare…"

_Thwak!_

"Guess not…"

Ginny laughed. Harry grinned, rubbing his shoulder.

"Anyway, I have to get to work," she leaned forward and gave him a soft peck on the lips. She started away but stopped at the doorway. "Oh, seeing as it's your day at home, why don't you clean out the attic?"

"Aw, _Gin_."

"Thanks, hon," she grinned cheekily before hurrying down the hall to take the kids to school.

Harry sighed and downed the last cold drops of coffee in his "Number 1 Dad" mug before pushing out of his chair and making his way up to the attic.

* * *

"Happy birthday!"

Crackers exploded and sparks filled the air as Hermione Granger blew out the candies on top of a three layer triple chocolate cake. The children cheered and ran forward to give her hugs and wet kisses. The younger ones gazes in awe at the towering pastry, eyes glued on the velvety icing.

"Come along, dears," plump Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen. "Come help Granny with the plates!"

The children ran off with the eldest Weasley child, Andrew, in the lead (quite pleased with himself since James was off at the big magical school).

"Aw, they're so cute," Hermione sighed with motherly content, as the line of bobbing red, dark hair, and light brown hair trooped into the kitchen, leaving the four adults for a quick moment to themselves.

"Sure," Ron grumbled, swiping a bit of icing off a corner of the cake.

She laughed. "Okay, they're cute when they're not running around in giant spider costumes Fred and George gave them for Christmas."

"Aw, ickle Ronnikins needs super Hermione to save him from the rampaging spiders?" Ginny teased with good nature.

"Shut up, Gin," Ron grumbled again.

"Hey, guys," Harry quickly intervened (even though they were adults, Ron and Ginny were still prone to relapse into their legendary Weasley duels from time to time). "Look what I found when I was cleaning out the attic!"

He pulled an old leather-bound book out from behind the tower of wrapped gifts and ceremoniously gave it to Hermione.

"Oh Merlin," Ron declared. "I thought you said you lost it."

"Apparently, the good wife _does_ have some sense," Harry said as he wrapped an arm around Ginny. "It was at the bottom of some old boxes from years ago.

The quartet's faces lit up as they opened the book to their past.

* * *

Well, that's chapter one!

The chapters get a lot more interesting from here, I promise!!

Have anything to say about my writing style, word choice, characterization? Well, please leave a little review to let me know what I need to do in order to improve!!

Smilingly yours,  
Chikin Wang


	2. Arachnophobia

Hahaha, this topic is probably one of those overused ones, but I just couldn't resist including it!! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Thanks to **thesongremainsthesame** and **um** for their reviews!! And, yes, I fixed the little boo-boo in chapter one...and i apologize for it!!!!

**Disclaimer**: If wrote the HP books, I would definitely put off the publication of the book until next summer…so I'm _definitely_ not JKR!!

* * *

_**Picture Perfect**_

**Chapter II**:  
_Arachnophobia_

* * *

"Ron, Ron, honey, let go of Teddy." 

Three year old Ron with a bouncy tuft of bright red hair, tightly clutched his raggedy teddy bear with one arm as he shook his head furiously, his left thumb jammed in his mouth, a line of saliva dribbling down his chin.

"Bill, Charlie," Mr. Weasley called up the rickety staircase as he hauled the ancient Weasley camera across the foyer and onto the steps of the freshly painted porch, "picture time!"

"Aw, Dad, do we _have _to?" moaned Charlie as he attempted to straighten his polka dot bowtie from behind the screen door.

"Yes, it's the annual Weasley portrait," Mr. Weasley answered through gritted teeth as he attempted to simultaneously erect the dusty tripod and place the roll of film in the camera. "Get the twins, would you?"

"Gred, Forge!" dyslexic Bill called down the hall in the direction of the kitchen as he also struggled with his burgundy bowtie (the darn thing just would stay straight!). "Picture time!"

"Molly, where are the little ones?" Mr. Weasley reentered the Burrow after brilliance struck him, causing him to casually flick his wand, ultimately resulting in the automatic set up of the camera.

Mrs. Weasley exited through the door, toddler Ginny, dressed in a fluffy pink dress with accents of miniature daisies, on her hip and young Ron, still clutching his stuffed bear to his chest, trailed behind.

"Arthur," the mother of the young Weasleys studied her husband intently. "Are you going to wear _that_ for the picture?"

"Uh…" Mr. Weasley looked down at his dusty robes and the new hole that the tripod made when he was wrestling the thing down the staircase. "Well…"

She glared at him.

"Right…I'm going to go…change now," he answered slowly, carefully picking words in hopes of not irritating the already high strung Mrs. Weasley.

"Thank you," she said, smiling sweetly before turning back her original problem. "Ron, please, just put Teddy down for a minute, just one quick minute so we can take this picture, _please?_" sighed Mrs. Weasley as she set Ginny down on the porch steps (who quickly tottered a short distance to discover the wonders of grass).

Ron pouted and tightened his clutch around Teddy's stomach. Mrs. Weasley made a move to diplomatically negotiate the stuffed animal out of the sticky arms of Ron when—

"_Mummy!_"

The twins, in untucked dress shirts and soiled dress pants, rounded the corner of the house (followed by a small army of angry chickens), one with an armload of wooden splinters. The other, George, ran alongside his brother, torn between mirthful laughter and flaming outrage.

"Mummy!" roared Fred—or, rather, roared as much as a seven year old could roar—"Ron broke my toy broom!"

"I…I did not!" Ron protested around a mouthful of saliva covered thumb.

"You did so," growled Fred, his bright red hair stand on ends, not unlike a small bonfire. "It was fine before you had a go on it!"

"Ron?" all eyes—except for those of young Ginny who was gleefully ripping tufts of grass from the ground—turned to the flushing boy.

"I…I didn't mean it—"

"Weasleys," Mr. Weasley burst back through the door, now dressed in a slightly worn, but mostly undamaged, navy blue dress robe, "picture time. Places!"

Mrs. Weasley, despite the drama that was growing between Fred and Ron, decided to put off the fight that would, without a doubt, ensue, gave quick orders for the positions of each individual. "Ron, go stand by your sister; twins, you two get between Ginny and Percy—and tuck your shirts in! Go on now."

Ron scurried over to his younger sister (now perched on a small island of grass, intently examining a line of ants), somewhat relieved that Fred had not unleashed his wrath. Mr. Weasley quickly set the camera timer before leaping next to Mrs. Weasley, both of whom were unaware of the wisps of smoke that were rising from the tips of Fred's hair.

"Say cheese!"

However, none of the Weasleys were able to utter the overused photo phrase. Instead, Ron let out a loud, shrill, ear-splitting scream, "_Teddy!_"

Fred laughed a villainous, maniacal cackle.

Poor Teddy had been turned into a giant hairy black spider. Ron threw down his former stuffed bear, his eyes the size of small saucers. The spider, as though unsure of how to operate its many legs, slowly advanced toward the terrified boy, its bleary eyes full of confusion.

"Teddy!" Ron screeched again.

Mrs. Weasley quickly drew her wand, "_Stupify!_"

Ginny giggled happily as she grabbed a hold of the Stunned spider, shaking its hairy leg so fiercely that Mrs. Weasley feared that its appendage might be unceremoniously ripped off.

There was a flash of light and the distinct click of the camera as it caught the moment on film.

"Everyone, get in your places again," Mrs. Weasley ordered as she took up the Stunned spider and Vanished it, unaware of the years of psychological grief that would result from the events that had taken place during the last ten seconds.

The family however, especially irate Fred and hysterical Ron, were too flustered to settle back to the original formation. Bill and Charlie attempted to comfort both brothers but only resulted in irritating Fred more and causing Ron to cry loudly for his Teddy. Percy ordered the pair to stop fighting so that mother and father could take the picture so he could go swimming only to have George chuck a handful of cornmeal (he and Fred had casually taken some from the chicken feed) at him. Mr. Weasley attempted to settle his sons down (Ginny decided to reoccupy herself with the ants), but in vain. He finally dismissed the family and took down the camera and its legs as Mrs. Weasley herded the children back into the house to change into more comfortable clothes.

"Well," Mr. Weasley murmured under his breath, "at least we don't have to worry about Ron's teddy bear problem anymore…"

* * *

Dysfunctional family?? I think so!! I guess that's why we love the Weasley's so much; they can be pretty crazy, but you know they have each other's back no matter what. Except Percy. Percy's a little ninny. 

It's summer now, so I should be able to finish this before DH is released. Maybe (but don't hold me to it!!)

Have any comments? Liked it? Found it annoying?? Didn't like the characterizations?? Leave some feedback in a review!!!

With anticipation,  
Chikin Wang


	3. The Old Married Couple

Another day, another chapter!!

Thanks to **azorianqt **for the review!!

**Disclaimer**: With less than 20 days--oh, Merlin, say it isn't so!!--until the release of DH, I am proud to proclaim that JKR's sandbox is the best and I would never claim it for my own!

* * *

_**Picture Perfect**_

**Chapter III**:  
_The Old Married Couple  
_

* * *

"_Hermione, catch!_"

Hermione spun around, her bushy brown hair whirling around her head as she glanced in the direction of Harry's voice. A shiny red fruit flew toward her and she leaned forward, arms outstretched…

A streak of red shot forth and quickly intercepted the pass and Hermione groaned in frustration as the red blur flew across the padlock and easily passed the apple to its teammate who effortlessly threw it into one of the three baskets positioned in the tree.

"All right, Gin!" Ron whooped loudly as he exchanged high fives with his sister.

Harry and Hermione quickly landed on the ground, huddling close in order to quickly devise a new strategy while the youngest Weasleys celebrated their goal.

"I think we can take them," Harry whispered quickly, glancing furtively about as Ron swung on his broom before fluidly transitioning to a series of loop-the-loops, "we just need to do something about Ron. Ginny's been all over the field, but do you notice that Ron's the one that makes most of the intercepts and Ginny does most of the scoring? I think if we can distract Ron from what he's doing, then maybe Ginny won't stand a chance."

"I think…I think I know exactly what to do," Hermione spoke in a thoughtful tone. "Just give me the apple at the start of this round.

Harry willingly handed her an apple from the basket that was placed at their end of the padlock before kicking off.

"C'mon you two," Ron taunted with good humor, swooping down to meet them. "We can't wait to wipe the field with you."

"You wish, Weasley," Hermione said snottily, poorly imitating what she imagined to be an intimidating opponent as she shakily straightened George's old Cleansweep Five to keep from smashing into the nearby tree.

"Okay, ten to seven, Harry and Hermione playing," Ginny announced as they each took their position.

Hermione immediately tossed the apple to Harry. As Ron made a dive for the fruit, she shot forward, cutting him off with a concerned look. "Hey, Ron, remember on the Charms O.W.L., question fifty-five, part C?"

Ron stared at her blankly.

"See, I had trouble trying to remember the exact wand movement for the Cheering Charm—I missed that class back in third year, remember? Anyway, so is it a jab and then a swish, or a flick and then a jab, or was it just a basic up-down movement like transfiguring matches into sewing needles?"

"Uh…" Ron's eyes widened with worry as he attempted to execute the movement wandlessly. "I think it was a swish-jab…unless it was the up-down...?" he answered uncertainly.

"Really?" Hermione also wandlessly executed the movement. "The up-down is usually used in transfiguring objects, like animals into goblet and owls into opera glasses, but McGonagall and Flitwick _did_ say that there _are _exceptions like with the Speed Charm and the Thickening Spell."

"A…a swish-jab, then?" Ron suggested hesitantly.

"Plausible," Hermione murmured, deep in thought, "but the jab is usually used in the cases of sounds and movement. Then again you _did_ over do it when you were partnered with Harry during the exam in third year, and he started to laugh like a madman, which _does_ tie into the sound idea, so I guess there _might_ be a jab required…"

"_Ron!_"

The pair straightened to find Harry and Ginny fighting fiercely over an apple.

"What part of 'We're down by two points and I could use you help,' do you not understand?" Ginny barked as Harry wrestled the apple out of her hand and casually tossed it through the basket. "_Argh!_" she cried in frustration.

"W-wait, when did you—and when did he…?" Ron sputtered, his eyebrows furrowed together with confusion (no doubt brought about by the cross between Hermione's thoroughly analytical discussion about wand movements and the sudden awakening from the land of schoolwork Hermione to find that his team was now three points down when it had been in the lead by the same amount of points moments before). He whirled around to face Hermione. "_You_," he pointed at her accusingly, "_you_ distracted me from the game, knowing full and well that I _hate_ going over questions after exams, and somehow I listened to that nonsense about Cheering Charms so Harry cold take on Ginny without any troubles and you two would be in the lead for once."

"Oh, well,_ Merlin_, if you're so _brilliant_, why couldn't you figure it out_ before_ they started to win?" Ginny seethed, unable to control the infamous Weasley temper.

"Ron," Hermione said sweetly as she patted him on the shoulder, "you use the basic clockwise triangular flick followed by the up-down when you perform the Cheering Charm." She smiled at him before swooping down to the basket of apples.

Ron gaped at her in disbelief. "You…you…" he searched for an insult that would not be too vulgar for the baby moles that resided beneath the ground. "You…_Slytherin_."

Down beneath the ground, under the thick layer of uneven grass and topsoil, the young moles gasped in horror as they watched the scene unfold on the tuber-vision. Mama Mole quickly changed the channel, horrified at what was being show on tuber-vision these days. She quickly set out to compose yet another letter of complaint to the TV station in hopes of more suitable programs to be shown during the day when children were around.

Meanwhile…

"_Slytherin?_" Hermione repeated incredulously. "What makes me—?"

"You sneaky Slytherin!" hissed Ron.

"Does he not hear himself?" Ginny—who had calmed down by this time—whispered to Harry.

"Well, Ron Weasley, I think you're nothing but a tactless meanie!" Hermione shot back.

"Hermione's not doing any better," Harry murmured back, his eyebrows arched with concern for his friends.

"They're just like a couple of three year olds," Ginny sighed hopelessly.

"You know what makes _so_ sick?" he didn't wait for a reply. "You and your stupid hair. It's all _brown _and _bushy _and—and would it _kill _you to not put _quills_ in them when you're _using _them?"

"I do not!"

"Third year."

"Nuh-uh!"

"That whole month before finals."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Um…actually," Ginny piped in cautiously, "yeah, you did. It took us forever to get the ink out, remember?"

"Well…it was just that _one_ time," Hermione shot back, finally able to form coherent sentences.

"Last year right before the O.W.L.s."

Hermione pursed her lips. "I. Was. _Stressed!_" she seethed, fuming with anger. "Anyway, you don't see me complaining about _your_ hair!"

"Oh," Ron feigned a hurt look before rolling his eyes. "At least _I_ don't get _ink_ in _my_ hair."

"Well, at least I don't spend twenty minutes on my hair every morning to impress a certain _someone_."

"How'd you—" Ron turned to face Harry.

Harry's arms shot up defensively, "I didn't say a word."

Ginny smiled guiltily.

"Why couldn't I've been an only child?" grumbled Ron.

"Oh, oh, are you saying that only childs don't have any problems?" demanded Hermione, lips pursed once again.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" Ron stared in disbelief.

"I'm talking about that general comment that just fell out of your mouth, you thick head, about how families with one child have no problems whatsoever, when, really, they do; they're just not as loudly proclaimed as the ones with multiple kids."

_Click. Flash._

Harry directed his attention away from the bickering pair to find that Ginny had conjured up a camera from seemingly nowhere.

"I shall call this piece 'Old Married Couple'," she proclaimed philosophically as Ron and Hermione stared at her stupidly.

"Ginny!" Ron quickly fell out of his daze and was overcome with anger. "Give me that camera!"

"See you guys at lunch," Ginny laughed as she shot away on her broomstick, her irate older brother in pursuit.

Harry echoed her laugh as he and Hermione landed on the ground, collected the bin of apples, and made their way back to the Burrow.

"'Old Married Couple'," Harry repeated thoughtfully. "I like the sound of it. It suits you two."

* * *

Isn't it funny how, no matter how much one plans something out, the final product turns out to be nothing like the blueprints? Ron and Hermione's argument totally took over this chapter, and I must say, it was actually a really satisfying change!! 

Any thoughts on this chapter? Any ideas at all? How about some constructive criticism? Drop them in a review, please!!

With hopes of hearing from you soon,  
Chikin Wang


	4. The Impossible Homework Assignment

**Disclaimer**: Millions await her last installment; few know who I am. JKR and I are not of the same entity.

* * *

**_Picture Perfect_**

**Chapter IV**:  
_Hermione and the Impossible Homework Assignment_

* * *

Hermione sighed a deep, satisfied sigh as she dotted, with great flourish, the final period of her two and one third feet long essay discussing her stand on centaur magical rights, quite content that her History of Magic homework was finally complete. As she stretched and yawned, she gazed around the room to find that it was mostly deserted save a select few who were hurriedly finishing forgotten homework. She smiled a smug smile. 

The portrait hole opened, admitting seven extremely exhausted but equally content Quidditch players, returning to the tower after an evening of rigorous training.

"Aw," Ginny groaned through a wide yawn, "I can't believe all the homework I still have left to do."

"Serves you right for laughing at me and Harry last year," Ron replied airily. "I _told_ you fifth year was going to be _brutal_."

"No one asked you," she grumbled as she made her way across the room to the girls' dormitory, too tired to muster up enough energy to argue with her brother. Harry, who looked the most depleted of all, mumbled an indistinct goodnight before dragging himself in the direction of the boys' dormitory.

"How was practice?" Hermione asked.

"McLaggen," Ron whispered simply. Hermione winced in sympathy, watching Harry struggle up the stairs, the arrogant young man badgering him with Quidditch strategies along the way.

Instead of tackling the sticky McLaggen situation, Hermione decided to start on smaller issues; "Ron, you need to be nicer to Ginny," she said, her expression morphing from sympathetic to disapproving as she directed her attention at him. "Anyway, she's doing much better than you and Harry faired last year. I mean, even the homework planner didn't help."

"Speaking of homework planners," Ron said pointedly, not wanting to venture down _that_ trail of memory lane, "I was wondering if I could check yours to see what the homework was."

"And where's yours?"

"Upstairs," he motioned nonchalantly at the staircase. "C'mon, I just need to make sure I've got everything."

She sighed before reluctantly sliding the planner across the table. He quickly flipped through up until he came upon the day's date.

"Transfiguration, Charms, Defense, Herbology, Potions…" he read aloud. "Yep, that's everything."

"Potions?" she shot forward, snatching the book from his hands. "But…I finished the work today; I shouldn't have anything for Potions."

"Well, I guess you weren't aware that you didn't need to write it down."

"But it's right here," she murmured, reading the essay that had been assigned.

"Oh, well, I'm going to bed now," Ron said as he crossed the room.

"Aren't you going to do some work?" she said, looking after him in desperation.

He yawned. "Already done."

She stared at him in disbelief. It was unprecedented; Ron Weasley was done with his work but she wasn't. This was a nightmare.

"Yes, a nightmare," she murmured, sitting down at the table again. "This is just a nightmare."

Ginny reentered the Common Room, this time dressed in more casual clothes. "Why are you still here?" she asked, taken aback by the presence of the other girl.

"Work," Hermione answered darkly.

Ginny didn't even ask. The pair took their places, preparing for a night dedicated to schoolwork.

* * *

Ginny groaned. The room was filled with the sound of frenzied scratching. She couldn't help but notice how dark the room had gotten. Then it struck her. It struck her right between the eyes.

"Ow!" she cried, her eyes flew open to find that a sheet of crumpled up parchment had hit her square between the eyes. She also started to cry inwardly with the realization that she had somehow managed to fall asleep between the hours of two and three, smearing the last few lines of her essay on goblin uprisings with her arm and forehead.

An aggravated groan. The sound of the tip of a quill striking through thick parchment.

Ginny finally directed her attention from the essay beneath her nose to the source of the commotion.

The rustles of paper as notes were checked.

"Hermione?" Ginny croaked. "Why are you up so late?"

"I…forgot…essay…Potions," she wailed jerkily.

"That…doesn't sound like you," Ginny finally straightened up, rubbing her bleary eyes with her ink-stained hands.

"I've…I've lost it! I can't…I can't remember…!" Hermione continued to scribble furiously as she tugged at her already messy bushy hair.

"Why...what d'you mean?"

"I _always_ remember!" she paused as the notes that had been strewn across and around the table were rearranged. "But…this…I…"

Ginny was completely taken aback with Hermione's inability to form complete—or at least coherent—sentences. She had never seen her in such a frenzy. Also knowing that it was completely against the girl's nature to forget to do her homework, Ginny decided to retrace the trail to better understand her friend's situation.

"Where did this all start?" she asked in what she hoped to be a calming tone.

"Ron. There," Hermione jabbed the tip of her quill at her homework planner without pausing from looking up the ingredients to some obscure potion or another.

Ginny looked in the planner that was opened. She quietly read the list. She looked at Hermione. She looked at the planner. She knew this wasn't going to be pretty.

"Hermione?" she said slowly, hoping against hope that the crazed girl would not completely lose the last of her sanity. "This is…last year's homework."

Hermione froze. The small fire of desperation blew out and was replaced by a glint of absolute fury. She shot to her feet. Ginny blinked. Hermione was already making her way up the stone staircase, smoke wafting from her dark aura. Ginny winced; this definitely wasn't going to be pretty. She shot to her feet too, quickly pursuing the other girl in hopes of deferring rash actions that would possibly take place when the irate girl caught sight of the slow witted brother.

"Hermione? Hermione, calm down. Don't do anything rash—I mean, I completely understand how you must be feeling right now, but I don't think you should murder someone because he's a tactless dolt. Why don't we go down to the kitchens and get you a nice cup of cocoa?"

The door shot open and Hermione's wand was at the ready. Ginny wasn't sure what she did, but the next instant, Ron's human lump had reduced significantly and was replaced by a yelping puppy-like lump.

Flash of light.

"I told you she was going to figure it out," Harry said wearily as he set down the camera as the small terrier bounded out of his bed and attempted to snatch the camera off the bedside table.

"_Goodnight_." Hermione snarled forcefully.

Ginny shrank back as the other girl stalked by, her dark aura whipping around her, creating a small cyclone of terror.

"You totally deserved that, you know that, right?" Ginny pointed out to Ron the terrier. It whined and barked as it ran after the irate girl, knowing full and well that she was the only person who could change him back before breakfast.

* * *

Hahha, I have a feeling that my friends and I are going to be channeling a lot of irate Hermione next year!!

This was definitely one of those chapters where I totally goof up the canon timeline just a bit in order to get my little plot in it!!

Did you like it? Hate it? Or are you feelings somewhere in the middle? Drop a little message in the form of a review to let me know what you think of Dark Hermione!!

Patiently waiting for DH,  
Chikin Wang


	5. Mother, Daughter, and Boyfriend

Hey, it's me again!!

Thanks to **buffalo1fromSalem** for the review!!

This chapter sort of shifts gears and veers away from the trio to focus on one of my favorite couples in the series, Remus and Tonks!! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

**Disclaimer**: If I wrote the HP books, I definitely would have thrown Tonks' parents into the mix in HBP or even OotP!

* * *

_**Picture Perfect**_

**Chapter V:  
**_The Mother, The Daughter, and The Boyfriend  
_

* * *

Remus twiddled his thumbs, nervously fidgeting on the doorsteps of a white vinyl house in the middle of Suburbia. Despite his nervousness, however, he could not help but smile secretively at the young lady next to him. 

"What?" she asked, nervously running her fingers through her bubblegum pink hair.

"It's just weird to imagine you growing up in such an…ordinary house," he said, chuckling quietly.

"Not so normal, I promise you," Tonks sighed heavily before turning to face him. She brushed off his shoulders and straightened the collar of his navy blue polo shirt before inhaling deeply.

"Ready?"

He smiled a small, reassuring smile.

"Okay, here we go."

She bounced on the balls of her feet, not unlike a swimmer preparing to dive off a diving board, before turning the doorknob and stepping into a tidy foyer. "Mum? I'm home."

"Nymphie?" footfalls pounded down the staircase and a woman with silver streaked auburn hair flew into the foyer. "Oh, Nymphie!" she hugged her tightly before pulling her back, examining her daughter from an arm length's distance. "My, and you're _early_. I guess having a boyfriend _does_ improve a person!" she added teasingly.

"_Mother_," Tonks hissed, her eyes widening desperately.

Her mother laughed. "Right, okay, nothing too embarrassing. Gotcha."

Tonks groaned, smiling through gritted teeth at Remus, silently apologizing for the mother's behavior. Remus grinned; he had never seen her so flustered before.

"And you must be Remus," the auburn haired woman finally directed her attention at the boyfriend, smiling and winking at him as though she was sharing a secret with him.

"Hello, Mrs. Tonks, pleased to meet you," he extended his hand.

"Mrs. Tonks," she laughed, giving him a one-armed hug. "Call me Andromeda. Or Andy, even, doesn't matter to me, little Remie."

"Uhh…right, Andromeda," Remus laughed awkwardly at the usage of his old baby name.

Tonks stared at the pair. "Wait. You…you _know_ each other?

"Of course, darling, Sirius always brought Jimmy and Remie to the family reunions every summer when we were little. It was the deal that he struck up with his parents so that he wouldn't have to put up with the mad Blacks all by himself."

Tonks stared at Remus. "And I thought this was going to be _awkward_," she murmured under her breath.

"Have a seat, have a seat," Andromeda motioned at a squishy black couch. "Would you like anything to drink? Water? Butterbeer?"

"Butterbeer's fine," Tonks and Remus chorused.

"Three Butterbeers it is," she hurred out to the kitchen

"You already knew her and you didn't say anything? And here I was, worried out of my senses that she would hate you or whatever and you didn't say anything?"

"I didn't think that she would remember," he said sheepishly. "I mean, there were a _lot_ of people at those parties. I probably didn't meet but twice, maybe."

"Trust me, if you were with Sirius, she _would_ remember. She loved him like a brother."

"Butterbeers all around!" Andromeda sang gaily as she reentered the room, three bottles floating before her and a camera swinging from her neck. "Why are you still standing? Sit, sit!"

"Mum, why…why do you have a camera?" Tonks asked slowly, as though anticipating and dreading the answer.

"To document this auspicious occasion, of course!"

"Oh, Mum, no!"

"My little Nymphie, all grown up!"

"Mum, please, you're embarrassing me!"

"Just one picture," Andromeda said earnestly, gazing hungrily from her daughter to Remus, who had taken a seat on the squashy couch. Tonks sighed heavily as Remus chortled quietly. She flopped down next to him, her lips slightly pursed.

"Take the picture, already!"

Andromeda Tonks pulled the camera to her face, focused the lens but pulled the instrument away from her face, saying thoughtfully, "This isn't quite the same, though…maybe later." She released the camera and say in the armchair across from the couple, quietly serving them their beverages. They made small talk about the weather, Tonks' work, and other topics before Andromeda dropped into the conversation that she needed groceries for dinner that night but, oh, she was so tied down by the work the head of her department had assigned that she hadn't gone out to the store all week and would Tonks and Remus please run down to the grocery store and pick up a few things?

Tonks jumped at the occasion, desperate to get away from her mother who had gone into uber embarrassing parent mode. Andromeda hurried off to the kitchen and handed a list to her daughter along with some Muggle money and Tonks flew out the door, practically dragging Remus on the sidewalk as she made her escape. She did not stop until they had a few streets' distance behind them.

"I am _so_ sorry," she panted, running a hand through her windswept hair. "I didn't think she would act so…_weird_."

Remus laughed, pecking her on the cheek before the pair set off again, this time at a much more leisurely pace, Tonks reading over the list.

"Eggs, flour, ginger, cucumber…" she looked up. "These are all household staples that we never not have," she furrowed her eyebrows worriedly. "She's up to something."

* * *

"It's the old tree!" Tonks handed Remus her bag of groceries before nimbly climbing up a gnarled and knotted oak tree, swinging up the low limbs. 

The pair were in the deserted park, taking the detour that Tonks _insisted _on (Remus suspected that she wanted to prolong "meeting the parents, part two" for as long as possible). The gnarled tree was on one side of the clearing, evidently a popular attraction based on the neglected toys strewn around the wrinkled trunk. Remus looked up at her, then at the carton of eggs in his arms. He quickly Charmed the perishables so that they would keep in the unusually warm mid-October weather before following her up at a slower, more uncertain pace.

"We used to play in this tree when we were little," Tonks reminisced aloud as he scooted next to her on a particularly thick branch. "Mainly, you know, Make Believe stuff like pirates and wizards and dragons…

"Anyway, once, I accidentally changed my hair to be like a wizard's—one of the boys, Tim Garthgan, said that girls couldn't be wizards because wizards have beards and girls can't grow beards—and that was when my mum—she's one of the head of the Oblivaters—had to erase the kids' memories. Tim's never been the same…"

Remus wasn't sure whether he should laugh or wince sympathetically. In the end, he compromised by nodding thoughtfully to express that he was listening but had no strong feelings on the matter.

"Yoo-hoo!"

He glanced up.

"Smile!"

_Flash!_

"_Mum!_"

Remus blinked hard, trying to blink away the red stars in his vision.

"See you two at home!" Andromeda Tonks called cheerily before vanishing into thin air.

"She has no idea how lucky she is for pulling that trick on me instead of Moody," Remus remarked as the pair clamored out of the branches.

Tonks couldn't help it. She laughed.

* * *

Whoops, I went a little overboard with Andromeda. I really hope she makes an appearance in _Deathly Hallows_—she's definitely my favorite character that we haven't seen, sticking it to her parents and everything by marrying Ted Tonks! 

So…any thoughts?? Anything at all?!?!? Drop them in a review, please!!

With anticipation,  
Chikin Wang


	6. The Order Meeting

I'm so, so, _so_ excited about this chapter!! And now I've totally jinxed it by setting the bar really high... This chapter was the premise of the story. Of course, once you read it, having it stand alone would have made a somewhat superficial fic, without much substance. So I started to build up around it. Call it my "foundation piece" if you will. Enough rambling now.

Thanks to **Dan Helsing** for the review!!

**Disclaimer**: I doubt that what you are about to read really happened; and I think JKR would murder me if she ever read this…

* * *

**_Picture Perfect_**

**Chapter VI**:  
_The Order Meeting_

* * *

"The greasy git's back," Bill announced with a look of displeasure as he stood in the doorway of the cramped kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place. 

"Everyone to their rooms," Mrs. Weasley announced firmly, waving her arms to herd the group of teenagers up the staircase. Despite her tone, the usual grumbles and under breath protests filled the room as the small party slowly filed up the staircase. They continued their complaints as they made their way up to the second floor landing where they disappeared into their bedrooms. Mrs. Weasley, however, ignored the grumbles and waited at the top of the staircase of the kitchen, her son, Mr. Weasley, Sirius Black, and various other members of Albus Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix made their way down the rickety stairs, making themselves comfortable (or as comfortable as the narrow kitchen would allow them), waiting for the rest of their party to arrive.

The locks of the front door clicked like a tersely trained orchestra, and Mrs. Weasley listened closely. Yes, there was no mistaking the clunk of Mad-Eye Moody's wooden leg, it was them. Within seconds, the group had make its way toward her and she warmly greeted Harry Potter, relieved that he had safely arrived at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. She informed, in a hushed tone, the others that Snape had arrived before leading Harry up the narrow staircase to his bedroom. As she hurried back to the meeting, hoping that Snape had not divulged anything _too_ important, she felt, rather than heard, Harry's roars of frustration. Sighing deeply—she had, after all, expected this—she rushed down the stairs. She was in such a hurry that she almost ran into the head of the Order, Albus Dumbledore.

"Oh, Albus, I'm sorry!" she squeaked, grabbing the gargoyle at the bottom of the steps to keep from knocking the headmaster of Hogwarts into the old troll foot hatstand.

"It's quite all right," he smiled reassuringly as he stepped back so she could lead the way to the kitchen.

"We didn't think you would come," she started.

"Ahh, well, I thought I would check in and see what Snape had to report."

She slowly pushed the once handsome (but now quite worn) oak door open before scurrying down the few steps and slipping into the seat next to her husband. Dumbledore quietly took a seat at the foot of the staircase, not wishing to distract the others' attention from Snape's report.

"And as you can see," Snape was saying with an air of self importance (Bill furtively rolled his eyes at the ceiling), "it appears that the Death Eaters are—"

"_Damn!_"

Snape abruptly halted his speech and, his eyes shut tight (as though willing himself to be patient), he slowly turned to regard the weathered ex-Auror. "Yes, Alastor?" he said coldly.

"Don't 'Yes, Alastor,' me," growled Mad-Eye Moody. He Summoned a cup from the end of the table and jabbed his wand at the empty glass as it skittered across the tabletop, "Aguamenti." Water filled it and he plunged a finger and thumb into the socket of his whirling eye (now stuck, staring downwards).

"Mad-Eye," Tonks began, looking at him with mild concern.

He ignored her. His eye emitted a loud _squelch_ as the eyeball popped out and started to whirl slowly in the palm of his hand. He plunged it into the cup of water.

"That's the second time today, that is," he growled, prodding the eyeball with the tip of his wand. "It's a pity that Scourgify-ing it makes it burn when I have it in."

"As I was saying," Snape resumed his speech, clearly attempting to steer the room's attention back to the original topic, "it's quite clear that—"

Moody's eye, however, had other plans. Agitated at being prodded by Moody's wand, the eyeball started to whirl and turn, gradually increasing its speed until—

"_Oh!_"

It upended its container, spilling water on the ancient Black Family table (or so the late Mrs. Black proudly dubbed it), heading straight for Emmeline Vance's wide-eyed expression of horror. She did not have time to grab for her wand but resorted to throwing her arms out as a quick reflex. The whirling ball of x-ray vision and doom ricocheted off her hands at an angle and headed straight for Bill Weasley, who was sitting at the far end of the long rectangular table. Bill, despite his Curse Breaking days in Egypt, reacted in a similar fashion as Emmeline. This time, however, the eye came from a much higher angle, not unlike a falling meatball, shot down into his palm. Slightly grossed that he was holding another person's _eye_, Bill found himself juggling the eyeball.

"_Eugh!_" cried Hestia Jones when it landed in her lap. Moody's ball of doom almost immediately shot off her lap and bounced off…

…Dedalus Diggle's ridiculously tall top hat before heading for…

…Elphias Doge's flyaway tuft of white hair. He ducked in time. It zipped over him, slightly ruffling his hair, before ricocheting off the wall and attacking Sturgis Podmore (who tried to bat it away with his hands) before seeking out the Weasleys, Tonks, and then Remus…

Dumbledore, who was sitting in the back of the room, smiled serenely at the scene that was playing out before him, conjured a camera out of his pocket. He calmly took a picture, capturing Tonks in mid-juggle as she pumped the eyeball with the palm of her hand while Moody (who was on her right) attempted to snatch back his visionary tool, and the rest of the room bursted with chaos that could only be caused by a whirling magical eye. Snape stood in the background, lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed.

Snape finally snapped as Moody's eye escaped from Tonks hands, landing back in its glass as though nothing had happened (Bill was sure that it was twiddling its nonexistent eyeball-thumbs), waiting for Moody to plunge it back into his eye socket.

"_Are we are or are we not professionals?_" Snape roared furiously as Dumbledore slipped out the door.

* * *

Yeppp. THAT is what happened during the Order meeting in OotP. Mundungus slept through the whole thing, and the parchment with the building plans lay forgotten because of the attack of Moody's eye.

Was it too much? Too little? Should I have left the Order meeting alone? Let me know what you think by dropping a review!!

With hope of hearing from you soon,  
Chikin Wang


	7. The Birthday BakeOff

This chapter was completely inspired by this one fic that I read ages and ages ago and watching the Food Network—a lot.

Thanks to **Dan Helsing** for the review!!!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything dealing with Harry Potter, trust me.

* * *

_**Picture Perfect**_

**Chapter VII**:  
_The Birthday Bake-Off_

* * *

"Good morning, Harry," Mrs. Weasley greeted him as he entered the kitchen. She sneezed once—twice—three times before groaning loudly. "Excuse me," she bid of him before loudly blowing her nose into a handkerchief. 

"Morning, Mrs. Weasley," he replied with concern as she sneezed once again.

The kitchen of the Burrow was void of its magically moving pots and pans, and the brass kettle, dull from lack of its daily cleaning, whistled half-hearted. Mrs. Weasley magicked it from under her handkerchief. It floated across the stove, pouring of its boiling water into a pot of tealeaves.

"I'm sorry, dear, I'm afraid you're on your own with breakfast," Mrs. Weasley said with an apologetic glance. "Arthur's outside feeding the chickens, but I was able to gather some of the eggs before he shooed me in." She sighed heavily, "I was sure I would be well for Ginny's birthday, but…"

"I'll make some Pepper-Up Potion for you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said in a consoling voice as she entered the kitchen. "You just go rest so you will have enough energy for the party tonight, okay?"

"Yeah, Mrs. Weasley, we'll take care of everything, don't worry," Harry added, taking the small basket filled with eggs and rummaging for a large mixing bowl at the same time.

The Weasley mother smiled gratefully, "Thank you, dears, thank you so much." She turned and made her way up the staircase as Harry started to beat a dozen and a half eggs he was going to scramble. He just registered a congested, "Good morning, Ron," and a bleary, inaudible reply before Ron Weasley, his T-shirt on, the neck of it slightly stretched to the left as though he had attempted to put an arm through the neck hole, entered the normally cheery kitchen (now silent and quite mournful despite Harry's attempt to cheer the stove up by waving the bowl of egg at the pans).

"Morning, Ron," chorus Harry, who had started to scramble the eggs, and Hermione, who was making toast.

"M-m-morning," Ron yawned widely as he stretched his arms. They fell to his side and his blinked hard, now wide awake. "Need help?" he asked.

"Bacon?" asked Harry as he wrestled the pan down, still unaccustomed to using the magical cooking utensils.

"Butter?" Hermione said at the same time as she supervised the bread from next to the toaster that Mr. Weasley had modified (capable of toasting a dozen slices at one time).

Ron nodded as he crossed the kitchen and collected a jar of amber marmalade from the pantry and a slab of bacon, two dozen thick sausages, and a small tub of butter from the icebox. He gave what each individual had requested before settling down to butter Hermione's toast. She then left her post next to the bread, crossing the room to brew a pot of coffee and another pot of tea.

Ron was the first to break the quiet clatter. "I had no idea how much effort went into making breakfast," he observed as he scraped a square of butter across a slice of golden brown bread.

"Well, if you think it's hard for your mother, imagine how the house-elves at Hogwarts must feel," Hermione said passionately.

"Hermione, _please_, it's eight o'clock in the morning, my Mum is sick, and we may end us having to bake Ginny's cake if Mum doesn't get better. Could you please not get started on spew before I even have any breakfast?" Ron pleaded, looking at the bushy haired girl with exaggerated anguish.

"It's not _spew_, it's—oh, all right," she gave in huffily as Harry shot her an impatient look. "Was just asking you to consider what _they_ go through on a daily basis."

There was a stony silence, only interrupted by the quiet sizzle of the bacon and sausages that Harry had just tipped into the frying pan.

The front door squeaked open, "Good morning, everyone," Mr. Weasley greeted brightly, dusting off his robes. "Just got through feeding the chickens. Ah, breakfast, excellent."

Harry was scooping up the last of the sausages and placing them in a large platter when the birthday girl herself entered the room.

"Happy birthday, Ginny!" the room chorus, interjected by a now-energetic, shrill whistle from the slowly glowing brass kettle.

"Thanks," she grinned as she embraced her father before settling into her seat.

Ron got to his feet, a crazed grin stretched across his face. He shot up the stairs. Harry, who had finished cooking (the pans sprang to life and started to clean themselves in the frothy suds of the sink), settled down to tuck in when Ron returned with a bright red hat, laden with whirling streamers and exploding balloons.

Ginny groaned loudly.

"You have to wear it," Ron said in a bossy big brother tone not unlike the one that Hermione used in regards to Harry's SPEW badge, "or the Goople Goblins will give you a miserable year."

"I don't believe in the Goople Goblins anymore," Ginny said defiantly, staring at the hat with hidden apprehension.

"But you _have_ to wear it," Ron said, his eye widening dangerously. "It's a _tradition_."

She stared at his slightly crazed expression, then at the hat, and then back at her brother. Harry smiled a small smile as he watched her slowly, reluctantly placed the hat on her head (the streamers whirled even faster and an especially large balloon popped, filling the air—and covering Ginny's plate of food—with confetti). He would have worn it, too, given the choice between donning the gaudy hat for the day or having to put up with Ron-you-must-follow-this-tradition-or-else-Weasley on such a day.

"You haven't had to wear it since your eleventh birthday," she grumbled under her breath as she tried to clean off the bits of colored paper. "Just because I'm younger than you and my birthday's in summer…" she trailed off, the birthday brightness gone from her face as another shower of confetti fell on her scrambled eggs.

Hermione was preparing a plate of steaming food and setting a pot of tea on a tray as they ate (meals this summer had been oddly quiet due to the absence of the rowdy Weasley twins). She took the tray of breakfast up to Mrs. Weasley (who was recuperating in the bedroom she shared with her husband) before returning to have eggs and toast.

As the group finished the meal, a swarm of owls (Harry counted at least ten) swooped through the open window, parcels tied to their talons, before landing around Ginny, each impatiently waiting for her to take their packages. While the other assisted in removing the parcels, Harry offered bacon finds, cereal, and cups of juice to the owls as rewards. Some immediately took off while other dunked their heads in the cups and helped themselves to the food.

_Flump_.

Harry retrieved Errol, the Weasley's ancient barn owl, from behind the trashcan underneath the window before setting him on his perch. The lumpy parcel, wrapped in thick paper with a pattern of W's, was removed (Harry strongly suspected it was from the Weasley twins) and the owl hooted in gratitude before drinking a beakful of water from his water tray.

Hermione scribbled something on a scrap of parchment and set it next to the toaster, giving Harry and Ron significant looks before making her way up to Ginny's room, no doubt to brew the promised potion for Mrs. Weasley as Mr. Weasley Banished the presents into the living room for the small party that was to take place that evening before getting to his feet and stretching. "Well, I'm off," he announced, drawing on his traveling cloak.

"Bye, Dad."

"Bye, Mr. Weasley."

"Take care of your mother while I'm gone," Mr. Weasley implored as he exited and Disapperated.

"I'll be up in my room if you need me," Ginny said, brushing a whirling streamer out of her face, before exiting.

Ron sighed as soon she was out of earshot and said, "I guess we better bake that cake for her."

Harry looked at him in surprise, "Oh, I get it, you used the hat as a diversion so that she wouldn't be here when we baked her cake?"

"Yeah," Ron shrugged nonchalantly. "That and because it really annoys her."

Harry started to rummage through Mrs. Weasley's many cookbooks. He finally withdrew a thick book with a smiling lady on the cover. He was slightly taken aback by the fact that the blonde lady holding the cake wasn't _moving_.

"Ron, why do you have a Muggle cookbook?"

Ron looked at it. "It…I think it might be from Mum's cousin—you know that accountant person I told you about? I think he sent it on Mum and Dad's twentieth anniversary."

Harry nodded, flipping through the book until he came upon dessert section. Baked Alaska, peanut butter cookies, chocolate nut meringue cakes, toffee pudding…

"How about Devil's cake with vanilla icing?" Harry suggested, looking down the list of ingredients from his spot in front of the pantry. "Butter, cocoa powder, flour, sugar…yeah, I think we have all the ingredients here."

"Is it hard to make?" Ron asked worriedly.

"I dunno, I didn't get a lot of baking action when I was with the Dursleys. I mean, I did a lot of cooking when I was little 'coz the Dursleys are, well, the _Dursleys_, but I never really had to bake anything except maybe lemon salmon."

Ron sighed, "Mum does all the cooking around here. Ginny helps some, but the last time she let one of us guys help in the kitchen, we ended up eating the stuff before dinner time."

Harry did not say anything as he started to move all the required ingredients to the breakfast table as Ron quickly tossed the used plates into the sink. He winced sharply as the plate that formerly held the sausages bounced off the windowsill. Disaster would have struck had it not been for the faucet's quick reaction, shooting out water to cushion its fall before lowering it into the sink.

"Let's get baking!" Ron said, his slightly crazed look spreading across his face once again.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Harry and Ron stared wearily at each other after finally sliding the slightly lumpy cake out of the oven. They had wrestled with Mrs. Weasley's old-fashioned mixer, Ron had slipped on some egg yolk and almost knocking the whole table over, and now the kitchen was littered with remnants of their efforts, broken egg shells scattered on the floor, melted chocolate slowly making solid puddles along the table, batter streaked across the table from when Harry accidentally flung the wooden spoon when Errol flew into Harry, prodding him to refill the water tray… 

"Well, at least the cake's done now," Ron said bracingly, treading across the room to the pantry, rummaging through it before extracting two jars of icing. "It's Mum's special recipe," he replied to Harry's inquiring look.

"Well," Harry sighed resignedly, putting the pan on the windowsill so that it could cool, "I guess we'll just have to dump it out into a bowl, mix some cocoa into it, and then put it on."

Ron was already upending the jars, generous mounds of icing filling the large mixing bowl. Harry passed a tablespoon of cocoa to him, too sticky and tired to do it himself. However, as he scanned the fine print of the cookbook on the part about the icing, he found himself, once again, pulled into the weird baking business.

"Ron, you have to fluff the icing," he said heavily as he offered to take the spoon from him.

"What?" Ron stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Fluff," he said emphatically, snatching the spoon away. "Fluff, you need to _fluff_ the icing. Sandra Lee says to _fluff_ the icing."

"Wha-what, like, like a _pillow_?" Ron asked with uncharacteristic sourness. "And who's this Sandra Lee anyway?"

"Like this," Harry demonstrated by folding the sugary concoction, creating air pockets in the mixture in order to ensure a light airy texture.

Ron took back the spoon and followed suit, but in a more vigorous manner. Soon half of the icing in the bowl was plastered on the ceiling. Harry cried in frustration before a spoonful hit his face.

Ron gasped. "Harry," he said slowly. "I am so sorry," he said, his eyes wide with terror.

Harry turned to him, slowly wiping the frosting from his nose. As though triggered by an unseen button, his eyes narrowed then widened, glinting brightly. He slowly, deliberately took a hold an unused stick of butter and smeared in Ron's face. Ron, in retaliation, took the last of the contents of the bowl and dumped it all in Harry's messy hair.

"Death. Of. Ron," Harry growled.

Ron squealed and raced off as Harry took the bowl. Before the youngest Weasley boy got very far, however, Harry had taken the almost empty bowl, turned it upside down, and turned it four, five, six times around on Ron's head.

"My hair!" Ron squeaked shrilly, grabbing the bowl and throwing it to one side, slipping on half a dozen broken eggs that had fallen off the kitchen table. He then took a hold of the can of cocoa powder, aimed, and fired, showering the Weasley kitchen (and Harry) in the powdery substance.

The pair continued, completely forgetting that they were sixteen year olds on the verge of adulthood, reverting back to their five year old selves, grabbing at anything and everything and chucking the contents at each other. Paprika showered the room, Mrs. Weasley's china jumped to one side, watching the spectacle with great caution in case they should be the next victims. Tea bags were strewn around the room as Harry, who was cornered and out of ammo, felt the top of his hair. The slightly hardening icing was still there, a large mountain of off light brown perched on a mound of raven black hair. He scooped it up, formed it into an oozing ball and aimed it at Ron.

Someone cleared her throat loudly.

Harry and Ron cringed as they pulled out of their little world, slowly turning to regard Hermione, who was torn between amusement and great displeasure, and Ginny, who was laughing so hard that she had to hold the doorframe to support herself, standing in the doorway.

"It's time for the birthday picture," Mrs. Weasley's voice came down the staircase, no longer congested and thick. She appeared behind the girls, completely oblivious of the untidiness of her haven as she was trying to figure out how to operate the old Weasley camera. "Everyone get—_OH DEAR MERLIN!_"

Mrs. Weasley must have accidentally pressed the button that took pictures. The camera flashed and snapped, taking in the scene, Harry's arm still raised in mid-throw, Ron still brandishing a small container of sugar. Ginny collapsed to the floor, laughing harder than ever, desperately gasping for breath. Mrs. Weasley groaned.

"I'm going back to bed," she said weakly turning to go back up the stairs.

"I told you, I already took care of the cake," Hermione said sternly, holding up a bag. "Ginny and I went to the Muggle grocery store and picked one out."

Harry and Ron stared at her. "No you didn't!"

Hermione pointed at the piece of parchment next to the toaster. "Yes I did."

Harry looked at Ron. Ron looked at Harry. They both looked at the room. There was nothing else to do. They winced simultaneously.

* * *

Okay, so Sandra Lee didn't really come on to the scene until about 2003, but I had to include her (mainly because she used to scare me and my sister a lot). 

Dang, this chapter was a lot harder to write than I expected. It was another one of those chapters where the main idea got lost in the shuffle of things because the Weasley's magical kitchen took over and forced me to put them in as a character of their own. Kinda.

Hmmm…any thoughts at all?? I think there might be two or three chapters left, but it's highly unlikely that they'll be up before the release of DH (tomorrow night, oh merlinnnnnnnnnn!!!), so we'll see. Maybe I'll just leave this fic open for always so I can just keep adding on to it whenever it strikes my fancy…

Quite excited about DH (though somewhat depressed at the same time),  
Chikin Wang


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